


As sweet as this

by SevlinRipley



Category: It - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Exes, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Feeding, First Dates, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Holding Hands, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-04-05 19:45:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19047130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SevlinRipley/pseuds/SevlinRipley
Summary: Prompt: fake dating/first date/insecure RichieFor the It 2 Fic Exchange.





	As sweet as this

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ashleygail](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashleygail/gifts).



“ _Damn it_ ,” Bill said, turning and pressing his forehead into the front door as he closed and locked it. He let his head rest against the cool paint, shoulders dropping as he inhaled.

The whole drive home Bill’d let himself sink into the book-on-tape he had playing. Mind focusing in on each word with scrutiny, critiquing the author’s work as if he were their editor. Considering what words he would have used, himself.

Once he was back to silence, however, the hum of his car gone as he stuffed his keys into his windbreaker pocket, Bill started playing the conversation over in his head again. Wincing as he dragged his feet toward the apartment door.

Bill hadn’t paid any mind to Richie, sat on the sofa with a bowl in his hands. Not until Richie asked, “What?” cereal spilling out from his mouth, back into the pink and green swirled milk. “Did you wreck the car? Bill, I need that for my gig on Saturday; you better not have fucking -”

Rolling his eyes, Bill turned himself along the door, glaring at Richie until the words stopped. “I saw Alicia,” Bill explained, annoyance melting away and leaving a pout on his lower lip that had Richie quirking a brow, and leveling his bowl on his lap to listen.

Not like he was new to eating soggy cereal. And boy... _Alicia_. She was a handful and a half. Enough to fill any man up. With discouragement and sadness. But still, she never left a soul empty. Left him full of _need_ , and desperation.

If it weren’t for her name being mentioned, Richie would’ve smiled sweet, but pitying, at the softness of Bill’s wilted features.

He continued his death-row waltz to the couch, not even bothering to peel off his jacket. The leather messenger bag, with its patina and loosening strap, which Bill carried with him everywhere, full of notebooks, a dictionary, and a tablet, fell before the foot of the couch as Bill flung himself at the empty cushions to Richie’s right. “She was with a new guy... Some guy with a beard, and he was...”

“Hot?” Richie offered, mirth growing in his eyes, as he looked over Bill’s feeble posture, a thin board lain across their couch, arms stuck to his sides like they were glued there.

“Yeah,” Bill sighed, eyes dodging up to meet Richie’s. As he caught the warmth there, and hint of amusement, Bill couldn’t refrain from the small smile that curved his own mouth upward. “Poor guy. Someone as hot as him shouldn’t be with someone as evil as _her_.”

Richie snorted. “Someone as hot as you shouldn’t have been either, but I guess we all make mistakes.”

Bill smiled even wider at that, cheeks just barely tinting rose. “It’s not our fault. She’s a siren...”

“Yeah. Wee-woo, wee-woo, get out of the fucking way, you poor sod! A storm’s a’comin’!”

Eyes fluttering as he laughed, Bill relaxed into the couch until his head was angled closer to Richie’s, the height of his shoulder. “Anyway... I... sort of.”

“Oh god,” Richie said, preemptively bringing his palm to his face, dragging his eyes down as he pulled white streaks along his face. “Not _again_! Did you invite her over? I swear to God, Denbrough, I am _not_ hosting another ridiculous clam bake with you to impress her.”

Lips pursing, Bill dropped his eyes to the bowl of cereal sat precariously on Richie’s thigh, and bowed down on a whim, opening his mouth. A moment of escapism so that he wouldn’t have to face the music as soon. Richie obliged with a huff, lifting a spoonful of cereal to Bill’s mouth, before shoveling it in. “Needy,” Richie said under his breath as Bill chewed, resting his bony cheek on Richie’s forearm.

“Speaking of...” Bill began, mournful, “It’s _not_ a clam bake. But I _do_ need to ask you a favor.”

Richie groaned, head dropping back into the cushion behind him, hands going extra knobbly as he grasped his bowl. “What’d you do? Promise to loan her money or something?”

“No,” Bill scoffed. Before wilting yet again, under Richie’s incredulous gaze. Bill only lost upwards of a thousand dollars to her selfish demands when they were dating. It wasn’t like a loan was out of the question. “Whatever. I didn’t. I... just. I told her I have a - a uh - boyfriend, too...”

“Yeah?” Richie said, waiting for the other shoe to drop. That wasn’t so bad in and of itself. Richie’d lied plenty about having a significant other in order to let someone down gently. And, okay, maybe once or twice to boast. Avoid losing face. Fine.

“Well...” Bill answered, pushing himself up to sit, eyes avoiding meeting Richie’s own as he worked the words out of his mouth, blushing at the memory of just what he’d done. “She asked if we’d like to double with her and I sort of said -”

“You sick bastard, Bill... Why are you like this?”

“I don’t _know_!”

“So, what... I’m your boyfriend now cause you have too much pride?”

“Just for a night...” Bill said, tone needling.

“You’re such a tool,” Richie told him, shaking his head as he lifted a spoon of cereal to his own mouth, and swallowed the lot whole. Then he heaved a sigh, and amended his tone to something more resigned, “ _Fine_. Everyone always knew I was your side piece back when you were with her anyways.”

He was Bill’s number two. There to pick up shredded pieces. A caretaker, although one not afraid to dole out a little tough love when necessary. ‘You’re an idiot, Denbrough... She doesn’t deserve you.’

How good of a caretaker could he be, though, letting Bill go through with this stupid charade? _But_... If he was footing the bill, then free food was as good a reason as any to let Bill make a fool of himself.

 

Richie refused to wear anything ‘special’ that could possibly denote giving a fuck about Alicia’s opinion. Or that of the host, waiters, and other customers of the restaurant they were going to. Bill shouldn’t have expected anything more. And yet he’d gone through half of Richie’s closet with him, Richie tossing out an excuse not to wear each and every piece. “Oh, I’m sorry, did you want me to gag through the whole meal? We are _not_ a matchy-matchy couple, Bill. I don’t care how much plaid brings out your eyes.”

“The undertones of m-my hair,” Bill huffed, slamming the hanger back onto the rod within Richie’s closet. Richie snorted from behind him, but more because it was laughable that Bill thought it _didn’t_ make the blue of his eyes stand out, too.

“Wuh-woh, buddy... Watch out for that there st-st-stutter. If you’re losing it over a god damn shirt, I hate to see what happens when I order s’mores for dessert, over croquembouche,” Richie said rising from the end of his bed, where he’d been relaxing back on his palms, lackadaisically refraining from stopping Bill before he got the jitters out of his system. But that extra ‘m’ was just one step too far, and Richie didn’t think he’d be coming back on his own any time soon, after all.

He put a hand on Bill’s shoulder, as Bill’s eyes searched his closet, ignoring Richie’s words in favor of finding a nonexistent compromise. Richie was wearing his lavender tee-shirt with the bleach stains, and the tear above his right nipple, and that was that. Grip tightening, he turned Bill around and pressed his back right up against the shirts so that he didn’t have anywhere to look but at Richie’s face. Richie, who stepped in close after him.

“Listen here, pardner. Yur dead lucky if she’s stupid enough to believe we ended up together after all this time, in the first place. Don’t go tryin' t' make it even less believable by havin’ me show up as if I actually care what _she_ \- of all lunatics - thinks.”

“You might not, but _I_ do.” Bill wanted her to regret losing him; Richie got it. But Richie didn’t want it to be for some superficial bullshit. She ought to have ached for Bill’s _soul_ the way he used to think he ached for hers.

Sure, she dolled up _hers_ for a while. Acted sweet as sugar and gave him easy affection in the beginning, pretty as jewels. But at the end of the day a soul would be as naked as the day it was born, and no amount of ironing was gonna hide anything unseemly.

Moreover, Bill didn’t have anything he _should_ hide. His soul was worth more - better-looking - than the entirety of Dolce & Gabanna’s roll-out, and to cover it up would be mockery. Death to art.

“In fact,” Richie added, steamrolling Bill’s obscene interjection, “If I _were_ your boyfriend, you’d owe me about three-squared blowjobs for even enter _taining_ the idea that I’d want you to have dinner in the same vicinity as her. So.” Richie flashed a winsome grin, and knocked Bill on the chin with a gentle fist, “Lemme dress like a schlub, you handsome devil, you. I recommend you do the same.”

Bill rolled his eyes, as his head moved with the hit of Richie’s knuckles, but his shoulders dropped and he gave up. Finally. “Fi-fine but I’m not dressing dow-own just cause you’re an assh-hole with poor taste.”

With arched brows, Richie lifted his hands as a sign of making peace, and backed off enough to let Bill run off to do his date prep routine. 

They left the house with Richie shaking his head while he locked their door. If nothing else, at least Richie came out upgrading big-time in this scenario. Why, Alicia just wouldn’t be able to believe his luck. Or Bill’s desperation. The witch.

 

As they approached the door to the restaurant, Richie considered milking the situation for all it was worth. Remaining outside as Bill entered, tapping his foot and clearing his throat until his boyfriend returned, _like a gentleman_ , and held the door open for him. But it felt a little to on-point for Alicia, and she might get the idea that Bill was still a doormat-catch and wanna come back to him. Which was the _last_ thing Richie wanted.

Instead, he followed close behind, and as soon as the host began guiding them to their table, Richie let his hand fall to the small of Bill’s back, leaning his shoulder into Bill’s, grinning slyly when Bill cast his gaze back in surprise. They hadn’t discussed what all this smoke and mirror act would entail, so Richie decided he was free to improvise. He was _this_ close to slipping his hand down into Bill’s back pocket, but figured his fingers wouldn’t approve of such a bony ass crushing them into the seat.

He would’ve been interrupted, in any case, because Alicia’s boyfriend arose from his seat as they approached, raising a hand to shake theirs. Richie and Bill both arched their brows in surprise, eyes stuttering from Alicia over to the handsome man begging their attention. “Mike,” he said, with a toothy smile, and a warm, albeit calloused hand firmly grasping Richie’s own.

“Rich,” Richie told him, holding on for just a second too long, receiving an elbow from Bill that had him blushing and pulling his hand back quickly before it landed at the nape of Bill’s neck.

Bill and Mike exchanged handshakes, too, while Richie turned his eyes to Alicia, sat there with her pretty dress and perfectly curled hair, big lips that were turned ever so slightly downward. “Hey Lish, how’s it hangin’?” Richie asked, hang loose sign naturally folding his hand in the air, before he stuck his tongue out at her.

She smirked that dry, bitter smile of hers. That said she tasted and/or smelled something acrid in the air. It was familiar... Homey, even, Richie thought (mockingly) to himself, as he felt Bill’s weight moving, and allowed himself to sit down right at his side. If her face wasn’t distorted to show complete and utter disdain, it was often sarcastic. Richie couldn’t even remember a time she’d ever genuinely smiled at him. Maybe when she and Bill first started dating... before her claws had firmly lodged within Bill’s scalp.

“So, Maculacular, how’d you end up with America’s sweetheart here?” Richie asked, nodded to Alicia, as Bill fidgeted with his menu. Noticeably avoidant of Alicia’s gaze, where she sat directly across from him. Immediately Richie regretted his decision to sit across from Mike, himself. But it’d been the side of Bill he’d gravitated toward naturally. Richie’s jaw went tight as he pictured a heel navigating its way up Bill’s pant leg.

The bastard... How _dare_ he wear such an attractive pair.

Thumb drawing circles into the side of Bill’s neck, Richie adjusted himself in his chair, so that his far leg stuck out, and his closest peck was lined with Bill’s arm. Eyes still trained on Mike as a warm gesture, despite his wandering mind.

Bill’s skin flushed hotter at the softer touches, eyes glancing up at Richie from the menu he’d barely been taking in. He noticed the strain in Richie’s jaw, felt the warmth radiating from him being so close. Brows twitching closer together, Bill bit into his lower lip, and then hesitantly moved his hand to Richie’s knee, grasping it as lightly as though a butterfly had perched there. But Richie’s leg stretched into his touch, and his hand smoothed down to rest at the top of his spine. Less nerves in the way it simply sat there, over Bill’s blazer.

As Mike wrapped up the story of his and Alicia’s meet cute, the waiter found their table. Bill’s hand left the warmth of Richie’s leg as he handed over the menu with one hand, while the other encircled his glass of water, sitting up to order. And Richie straightened within his own seat to match Bill’s posture, thinking that perhaps he’d been laying everything on too thick. He opened his mouth, ready to order, when Bill finished his, but then Bill looked at him from the side, a playful little smile on his face as he asked Richie, “Mozzarella sticks with extra marinara?”

Richie smirked, eyes going brighter, and he scooted his chair that much closer, ignoring the obnoxious sound of it scraping along the floor, to put his arm back across Bill’s shoulders. “Yeah babe, exactly what I was thinking.” And it had been.

Bill looked up at the waiter, proud grin on his face, head tilted back, “Mozzarella sticks, extra marinara on the side. And a strawberry lemonade, please.”

“ _Nice_ ,” Richie crooned from beside Bill’s ear, reaching across him to hand his own menu to the man before them.

If Bill turned his face just a little more to the right, Richie’s nose would be dragging along his prominent cheekbone. Bill was aware of Richie’s proximity, so kept his head straight forward, watching as Alicia gave her order, with side-eyed glances at Richie and himself.

But he wasn’t focused on her, or the looks she was sending them. He was busy trying to tame a blush that swept warm under his skin as Richie turned his head to lie sideways on his shoulder.

Richie tossed Alicia a wink, then, arm coming down from Bill’s shoulder to more comfortably rest at his waist.

“ _Richie_ ,” Bill said through gritted teeth, as Richie nuzzled in deeper, fingers digging into Bill’s side with the aim to tickle.

“ _Yes_ , my love?” Richie asked, Cheshire grin on his face as he rolled his head, balancing his chin on Bill’s shoulder. Viewing the profile of the pretty fan of auburn-colored lashes above Bill’s warning gaze.

“Behave.” With that, Bill stilled Richie’s hand with his own, grabbing it and pulling it taut, flat against his hip.

Waggling his eyebrows, Richie tipped his nose into the dip of Bill’s cheek. “Why, whatever for? Aren’t we _supposed_ to -”

“ _Richie_!”

Neither noticed the waiter had walked away. Or that Mike was looking upon them with a faint smile, and Alicia disgust. Until she snorted, calling both sets of eyes to herself. “Yeah, Richie, stop being so obnoxious. You’re so self-absorbed that you can’t even see how annoying you really are -”

“ _I’m_ annoyi -?” Richie started, incredulous. Sitting up straight as a bean in his chair, bony hands coming to slam into the table top as he barked out his question.

“I’d be _lucky_ if I could count the number of times Bill complained about you on my fingers **and** my toes.”

A chill ran down Richie’s back as the message clicked in his head. Not only had she gotten him to shut up, but she’d also successfully hit a button that actually hurt him. Under different circumstances, he’d be flattered she’d paid enough attention to know what made him tick.

As it were, he was far too ashamed of the stormy expression that’d come over his face. The way his jaw stuck. The lack of air and words in his lungs.

Yeah. Okay. He was annoying. And god forbid his friends ever be without anyone they could vent to, lest he should end up all alone.

Oh wait, he already _was_.

On impulse, Richie was sliding out of his chair and shoving it into the table, looking around the busy restaurant. First at the exit, then for the bathroom. Once spotted, he worked his frown open enough to say, “Pardon me. I’ll be right back,” flashing an electric smile, eyes flicking only momentarily to the non-offending Mike.

“W-wait. Richie!” Bill called, before Richie could even get more than three feet beyond them. Voice and brain catching up as he shot out of his chair to grab Richie by the elbow. Turning him around with force, while his other hand came up to grab Richie by the chin. His eyes raced to search Richie’s face. And Richie only had a moment to recognize the ‘ah, fuck it’ that greyed Bill’s eyes, and then Bill was tipping his head up and pressing a fierce kiss to Richie’s lips.

For all his acting credits, and that one camp he paid to attend, Richie could not school his face to look like they’d done this a million times before. Everything but his face felt frozen, until Bill also slid his hand down Richie’s arm to grasp his hand, before dislodging. At which point a shrill noise of surprise fought its way passed his throat.

Richie was looking at him, utterly bewildered, freckles blending in deeper with the red rushing to his cheeks, as Bill turned to Alicia, expression cold. “Actually. We’re b-both leaving. This was a mistake.”

Shaking his head in amusement, Mike echoed the sentiment. “My thoughts exactly.” Clearly he didn’t know what could’ve possessed Bill to agree to this. And it was quite obvious he was intelligent enough to be questioning his own acquiescence, too.

“Sorry, Mike,” Bill told him, with an apologetic and lilting smile, grasping Richie’s hand tighter.

“No problem,” Mike said with an understanding wink, head tilting toward his rather controlling girlfriend in a subtle act of forgiveness. “It was nice meeting you both.”

“Likewise,” Bill breathed. “You... You’re a really - I hope you’re happy.” Was all he managed. Rather than outright pleading with Mike to dump Alicia, and find something better. Hell, come be friends with _them_. Surely they could show him a better time than she could, with or without kissing involved.

“Have a feeling _you two_ will be,” he said with a knowing smile. Which prompted Bill to lick out at his lips and turn his eyes to Richie, who was looking at their entangled fingers and still red in the face like a four-year-old who’d gotten his first-ever kiss. Bill smiled helplessly, and then turned a pursed smile on Mike before nodding.

“We already are.”

Then Bill was pulling Richie out to their car, wrangling the keys from within his currently semi-comatose friend’s pocket, and leaving Richie at the passenger door to get behind the wheel. Embarrassment flaring up from within so hot and cloying that he didn’t think he’d be able to speak another word for a year. And that was if Richie even bothered speaking again, himself.

The latter happened sooner than Bill had expected however. Richie grabbed him by the wrist, stilling him. “Hey, no, wait... What uh. I -” Richie dropped his hold, bringing his hand up to the back of his neck, thoughtlessly ruffling the fluff of his hair there. “You. Uhm.”

Bill swallowed thickly, nervously swinging his body, digging a foot into the tarmac. “Sorry,” he breathed. “I just. You were so. So... - Richie. I’m _lucky_ to have you. What she said was bullshit. I wasn’t... I wasn’t annoyed. _At all_ , actually. In fact, I think that’s the best date I’ve ever had if you can believe it.”

“Oh,” Richie sighed, managing to look up and meet Bill’s eyes, a relieved smile on his face. “So... just to be clear. That kiss wasn’t for _her_ , right?”

His mouth worked up into a little half-smirk, and Bill stepped closer, hand itching to reach out for Richie’s and pull him close again. But his bravery had already mostly been used up inside. “I mean. Sorta. For both of you. Just. You’re not obnoxious, Richie. You’re my best fucking friend.”

“Best ‘fucking’ friend - getting a little ahead of ourselves there, aren’t we Big Bill?” Richie asked, with a toothy smile. Normal, mocking tone back in place as he let his hand fall from his neck, and shoved it into his jeans pocket. “I mean we haven’t even done it yet. You really won’t know until we try.”

Bill laughed, shuffling closer. “Best kissing friend, then?” he asked, with somewhat dopey eyes, looking up at Richie from under his lashes in the dusk blue light.

Richie wiggled his head from side to side as if weighing the pros and cons, then scooped Bill up, closer, by his hip, tilting their noses together. “Let’s just see how our second one goes. Then I’ll let you know if we’re hiring full-time.”


End file.
